


Player

by scarlettandblue



Series: Forbidden Fruit [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, McShep Match Challenge 2010
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 04:40:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10632399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarlettandblue/pseuds/scarlettandblue
Summary: This story is adult in content and slash.It is set in the period immediately prior to the first ever episode of Stargate Atlantis and may or may not be AU depending on how you look at things.It was beta read by the magnifcent organisers of the McShep_Match event so many thanks to both of them





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Re-posted here incase of Big Trouble at Little Live Journal  
> Fresh from the archives at McShep Match  
> my entry to the competition for TeamPlay
> 
> The prompt was: "Forbidden Fruit"
> 
> The title I gave this story was: Play(er)  
> Disclaimer none of the gorgeous characters belong to me, worse luck. I do this just for fun, no profit is made and no harm is intended, I just love these boys so much I can’t resist playing with them, please don’t be mean and sue me.
> 
> And all I know about the seductive game of chess I learned from the original Thomas Crown Affair and a magnificent chess site I googled that had that very chess match illustrated move by move.

When it first happened John thought the posting to Antarctica was going to be the last one of his career. He figured once he did his time there he’d be offered a discharge, and provided he didn’t screw up too fast he’d have twenty years on the clock by then and it would be time to go.

On another level, John had come to feel like maybe it was a chance too, to try and be a different guy. That the isolation might be good for his soul or some other fucked-up reason. Like maybe he deserved it, like a penance. After all, everyone had the pay the price eventually, even John Sheppard the guy who had made a career out of making sure nothing ever stuck,

He knew he had coasted through using his looks and charm and his laid-back attitude as much as his abilities. He probably still would have made his rank if he had been a mediocre pilot And even the COs, who actually understood that he was the real deal in the air, still somehow treated him like he didn’t have anything especially useful to offer on the ground. So that when it really mattered, like that last time, when he had suggested flying in solo to try and rescue the crew from the downed chopper instead of waiting for Intel from aerial reconnaissance, he had been turned down.

The vicious argument he had with his CO right out in the open, in the middle of the ops room, was likely the main reason he was in deep trouble after he got back from the partially successful rescue he’d flown, despite his orders.

In some ways John was surprised they didn‘t give him a court martial and a dishonorable discharge, maybe even some hard time in Leavenworth. But the fact he managed to bring the co-pilot and two marines back alive might have been the reason.

His CO made it clear he wanted John off his base and out of his command the moment he’d stepped into his office. He didn’t even bother to close the door as he read out the words of the reprimand he was placing on John’s record. It was abundantly clear to all the people who were pretending not to listen in, just like it would be to anyone reading his file in the future, that John had only escaped a court martial because of political interference.

No CO was ever going to consider him for promotion. No one was basically ever going to trust him again. Wherever he got posted next they’d take one look at that reprimand then try to figure out how to move him on to some other command as quickly as possible.

After standing there listening to his military career being flushed down the toilet John was surprised not to be told he was being transferred to Special Ops or some extra hazardous duty that he was unlikely to survive. He suspected there were some things on his file that his CO hadn’t read out, pigeon-holing him as some kind of fucked up psycho or adrenaline junkie, and it would make sense for them to give him the chance to make use of whatever tendencies they had assigned to his actions.

Instead he was offered a choice; although from the sour look on his COs face a choice was clearly the last thing he thought John deserved. But it seemed he could either take a desk job as liaison for some General at Homeland Security, or he could be a glorified gofer at McMurdo Airbase ferrying personnel and supplies between the base and a multi-national scientific research facility in Antarctica.

It didn’t take much thinking about. John chose the option that still gave him wing time.

And just like that he had his gear packed up and he was in transit.

John should have been used to Military transport by now, the noise and the sheer discomfort was always grueling. But with the memory of his COs words still making him feel kind of hollowed out, and the knowledge of that huge black mark forever hanging over him, this particular journey felt like medieval punishment and John was reeling in a kind of shocked state as he traveled south.

Then before he knew it he found himself standing in the middle of the CDC in Christchurch staring forlornly at the thick fleece sweaters and having no clue what he was doing. Fortunately one of the women working there took pity on him and asked to see his transfer papers to help him with his kit. She suggested some extra gear he might buy for himself as well, to make his off-duty time a little more comfortable.

Finally she directed him to the stores with a list of essential he needed to buy. Stuff like sun-block and super strength lip balm and chocolate, plus a couple of books to read as well as lots of condoms and some special kind of lube that didn’t freeze in the cold or something. John didn’t really pay that much attention to the technical details because he was too busy blushing bright red and backing away saying, “Uh… No, don’t think I’ll be…Yeah, thanks.”

It wasn’t that John didn’t like fucking as much as the next guy, because he did, probably more than the next guy if he was honest. And it wasn’t like he didn’t get plenty of action, because actually that was one the one area of his military career that he never had a problem with. He wondered briefly if he should have mentioned that when he was getting reamed by his CO, that he definitely was a Hot Shot when it came to fucking.

Like most guys he might well enjoy chasing tail, could almost have been said to have made something of a secondary career out of it, but that didn‘t mean he wanted to be the kind of guy who received unsolicited advice on his sex life from random grandmotherly types.

Plus when he thought about the uncomfortable truth he’d recently been forced to listen to regarding how much of a screw up he was, both as a soldier and as a man, maybe his CO had known about his status as The Player on base after all.

John wandered down to the stores and handed his list over to the guy. He told him not to bother with the condoms and the lube, then went to stand in front of a rack of books trying to figure out which ones were going to get him through this.

He picked up War and Peace, but put it back because it just didn’t feel quite right. In the end he settled on a couple of books he’d read years earlier, figuring it might be interesting to read them again, now he was older. He grabbed two books of black belt Sudoku puzzles and a biography of Johnny Cash that he’d missed when it first came out. The guy at the checkout already had the rest of his stuff boxed up so he just dropped the books in the top of the box and paid.

It wasn’t until he was finally in his incredibly depressing little room unpacking his care package that he realized the guy at the store had taken no notice of what he said and had sold him the lube and the condoms anyway. John was pissed because he’d made some decisions about what his life was going to be like on that final leg of the journey from New Zealand to McMurdo.

He’d made up his mind this was a chance for some real changes in his life, and maybe they were overdue. And the most important one was no more fucking around like he was the base bike. So he shut the lid of the box on all that stuff he wasn’t going to need any more and shoved it under his bed.

The next morning he met with General Fraser to go over his duties. The man had obviously read John’s file and he looked like whatever he’d seen had disagreed with him, but he kept it almost civil while he told John what he expected from him then handed him off to his XO. The XO was a Major Ferretti, and the guy was clearly on top of everything that went down on the base.

He was friendly enough so John guessed Ferretti hadn’t managed to read his personnel file yet. He had no illusions that he wouldn’t get to see it sooner rather than later because on a base like this, the XO was the one who really ran things. But John was still in that golden window at the moment so he got the low down on the really important stuff: who ran the poker game, who could get you booze or wake up pills or porn, and the best places to go for sex.

Ferretti was extra informative about that last part, because apparently there wasn’t anything else to do around the place. Also, because it was an international community of scientists and technical specialists, that apparently equated to a whole bunch of sex-crazed European women who didn’t shave, like anywhere but did apparently know more dirty sex tricks than a brothel full of Amsterdam whores.

John tried to shut the sex talk down, because he’d made up his mind. He‘d admitted to himself that he was kind of a jerk, when it came to women and he was trying really had to be a different person. Ferretti was in the middle of a run down of the social scene when John shook his head and said, “No, man it’s fine, I don’t.”

Ferretti looked a little startled.

John hurried on, “I mean I did, obviously. I have, you know, in the past… A lot. But...uhh… I’m not really…. Once you see my file maybe you’ll get why it’s … So I want to try not dating the women so much… I know it’s not stuff you talk about, but I just want to do the best job I can… and I don’t know… Be more honest?”

It was every bit as awful as he imagined it would be, talking about stuff, feelings. And yet now he’d said what he needed to, strangely he did feel better. Maybe that was the good part of this new thing he was trying. The more honest with himself thing.

But maybe he’d confused the guy because Ferretti stopped and gave John a really weird look. Then he smirked and started to tell him how the international scientist guys were all British and German and Canadian, and maybe a couple were Dutch as well, and everyone knew that those guys were up for anything and totally not required to follow the uniform code. John had the urge to ask Ferretti why he had such an obsession with the Netherlands but he couldn’t make his mouth work.

Instead he listened with a growing sense of shock as Ferretti explained that the Tuesday Night Chess Club and the Thursday Night Sci-Fi Marathon were the places to go to find a date. And the internet café in the main science building was gossip central and the bathroom near the small auditorium was the place to go if you were looking for something a little more casual, because no one asked and no one had to tell what went on there.

And John wanted to say, “Hey! You got that completely wrong, buddy.”

But his mouth still wasn’t working right and he didn’t know why.  
He might have made this deal in his head, that this was going to be the time when he got a little more honest with himself and with everyone else, but he hadn’t meant that. No way had he ever meant that.

Ferretti didn’t seem to be bothered that he had just given John the low-down on where he could cruise for just about any kind of sex there was. Instead he slapped John on the shoulder and started telling him about the flight schedule out to the Research site.

 

*********

It took a few weeks for John to really begin to get a feel for the place and settle in. There were days when he might have to do five or six runs out to the research station, taking boxes of supplies, half-awake scientists and odd-shaped packages out, bringing excitable lab techs and sealed crates back. There were other days when he only made one run out and back.

One weekend there was a huge fuss because some General was coming in with the flight of an experimental aircraft. John had been eager to see the new bird and was sorely disappointed when Ferretti called him into the office and gave him a written Psych-Eval to complete; apparently Fraser had noticed it was missing from his file. John had to complete it in an hour. He was all set up in one of the smaller offices with a corporal whose job it was to see John completed the whole thing in the allotted time and by the time he got out of there all the fuss was over. The General had flown out to the research site and the experimental fighter had refueled and taken off again.

Thing was, John kept waiting for the other shoe to drop; For Ferretti to either call him out on what he thought John had been saying, or maybe actually make a pass at him. And while John wouldn’t have been happy with either of those options, at least he would have been off the hook. But Ferretti never made a move and he never said anything that sounded off, and neither did anyone else. In the end John had to let it go. It hadn’t been what he meant anyway, and he had to figure that Ferretti was just a broadminded kind of guy who liked to cover all the bases, information-wise.

As he settled in he began to understand why the condoms and the lube were considered essentials though. And why Ferretti had been so thorough in his base orientation. The place seriously was hook-up central.

Maybe everyone was just slowly losing their minds, because it was hard not to be a little on edge all the time. It could be such a hostile environment and you had to think about safety even if all you wanted to do was slip outside for some fresh air or a smoke. And the goddamned cold was enough to get to anyone. So the thought of being pressed against another body soaking up all that extra heat was just totally fucking overwhelming.

Or maybe it was a kind of sensory deprivation that had everyone freaking out, because outside it was unrelenting, dazzling, white and blue to infinity, and inside it was pretty much just grey. John could see how too much of that would make a person totally bat-shit insane.

It was ironic that just when he’d reached a place in his life where he wanted to quit fucking around and concentrate on being a good soldier, he was permanently distracted by everyone else fucking around instead.

It was even more ironic that suddenly he was completely obsessed with how it was almost impossible to tell what anyone really looked like in all those layers of outer-wear, because they all spent so much time bundled up in their outdoor gear. It was like he was on edge all the time and he couldn’t stop imagining what was hidden underneath all that padding and fleece. And thinking about the hidden bodies, naked under their unflattering all-weather gear made everyone seem like forbidden fruit. Like the possibility of sex was everywhere, hidden beneath the surface.

And sex thoughts inevitably let to the idea that any sex act would entail a certain amount of delayed gratification. Fumbling through layers of clothing, struggling with fastenings and zippers to get just naked enough to do it. This turned out to be a kink John had never even realized he had.

 

Three months in and John knew something was going to blow. Or more precisely he knew that someone was going to have to blow…him.

But he’d managed to brush off every advance that had come his way over the last weeks. At first he had been diffident and just pretended not to notice if someone made a pass at him. But with such a closed society the choices were limited and he was fresh blood to them. So the women who propositioned him were relentless.

In the end he had to pretend anger, or as a last resort, run away, It was uncomfortably close to how he‘d dealt with things when he was seventeen, but it finally seemed to have worked. He figured by now, that everyone knew about the black mark on his record, and the women on the base likely had him pegged as some kind of weirdo loner skirting the edges of PTSD. Or an asshole.

Either way it looked like he was never getting a date again. Which made John super-annoyed at himself for having that stupid being more honest and not fucking around so much idea to begin with.

John probably had a kind of maniacal glint in his eye, and judging by the way the scientists scrambled out at the end of every flight he probably wasn‘t doing much of a job at hiding it. His desperation must really really be showing.

One particular Tuesday John’s only passenger was the jack-ass, which was just his luck. Everyone hated flying him, but it was so much worse when there were no other passengers on board to deflect his focus from the pilot. The man never stopped complaining from the moment he climbed in until the moment he got off. And pretty often after he got off at the research site he would still be complaining and moaning, especially if there was any cargo to unload.

He was wearing a particularly pissy expression as he climbed into the chopper.

His first words to John were, “I’ll thank you not to make the lab monkeys cry, Han Solo, I’m the only one allowed to do that. “

He folded his arms across his chest and his expression added the word asshole! to the end of that sentence.

John ignored him and finished off his pre-flight checks, then waited until the last of the boxes were loaded and the door was shut before turning the switches to on, ready for take-off.

“I mean it’s really not much of an achievement, making a bunch of intellectual lightweights cry like the whiny little babies they actually are. But when it affects the schedule of experimentation, because staff are too busy huddling in corners consoling each other to do their jobs, then it is a problem. And when I have to waste my valuable time passing out Kleenex and asking Mary-Jo and Cindy-Lou to tell me what the problem is, then it becomes a big problem. And when it turns out none of them want to come to work because the mean nasty pilot who flies them won’t go on dates with them or even speak to them and is angry all the time I begin to wonder if I’m the one having some kind of elaborate psychotic break. Because if I wanted to spend my time dealing with that kind of ridiculousness I would have gone directly into a career as a kindergarten teacher, and not wasted my time getting two doctorates!”

Still ignoring him, John cleared his departure with the tower and lifted off. True to form the jack-ass kept right on talking.

“Personally I can’t see what the problem is. You seem such a delightful conversationalist.”

This was completely untrue because John was pointedly not having a conversation with the jack-ass. But they had cleared the base so John took a moment to turn and glare at his oh so charming passenger.

 

John could manage a pretty rabid death-glare when he wanted, and the mirrored shades usually made it extra effective, but all he got in return was a smug attitude and a thin-lipped smirk. It was a little disconcerting, not that John would ever say that out loud, but he thought he had garnered a bit of a reputation since he‘d been at McMurdo. Usually, borderline PTSD with intimacy issues trumped grumpy annoying geek any day, but apparently not this day.

John turned back to watch where he was going. Hopefully, if nothing else, he’d shut him up.

“I’m Dr McKay, Dr Rodney McKay. I’m sure they told you. You have the privilege of flying the greatest mind of this generation, most likely any generation. Yes, very possibly the smartest man who was ever born, in this galaxy at least.”

John so hated when he was wrong.

In his peripheral vision he could see Dr jack-assMcKay nodding his head eagerly, like he might be getting ready to deliver a full-on lecture about his genius. John wasn’t in the mood, not on that particular day. So he banked sharply to the left then turned to the other man with a savage grin and drawled,  
“Sorry, turbulence.”

“Can’t you be more careful?” McKay spluttered. “Are you even qualified to fly this thing?”

John faced forward again. He shouldn’t really be enjoying this, but he couldn’t help it. He could still see McKay from the corner of his eye.

“Well I found this certificate in a Cracker Jack box, does that count?”

McKay faced forward his arms crossed and his pointy chin lifted defiantly, but John was sure a smirk was tugging up one corner of his mouth.

“I suppose that is what passes for wit among the mentally challenged.”

“You tell me, you’re the one having the psychotic breakdown.”

“Ha, yes very amusing. You’re a funny funny man, Captain Chuckles.”

“Major.”

“What? Oh, sorry, Captain Major.”

“Not Captain, it’s Major. Major Chuckles.”

“And people say I’m the one with an inflated sense of self-worth.”

“My rank is Major. Major John Sheppard.”

McKay turned to look at him, and there was an odd kind of searching in his expression. Then he nodded and said, “I know that, of course. I make a point of always knowing who is flying me, Major Sheppard, in case I have to complain formally about levels of competence or safety.”

“That happen often?”

“You’d be surprised just how often. Only two weeks ago I had to remind General O’Neill that while his head is merely a convenient place to wear a baseball cap at a jaunty angle, mine is the resting place for the smartest brain in existence and needs to be kept intact. And while it might be vital in some bizarre alternative universe to know the exact dimensions of the fish he caught behind his cabin that weekend, both his hands would be better occupied in this universe keeping the incredibly expensive, experimental technology flying.”

John couldn’t help the laugh, it kind of burst out of him. Then he snorted and laughed even harder as he saw the looks of sheer disbelief then horror that passed over McKay’s face.

“That is your laugh. Seriously?”

John snorted once more. He knew his laugh was maybe not exactly what people expected.

“Did you break it or something? Because really. That is just... ”

McKay was smiling when he said it but it was still truer than John had ever wanted to admit. Something was broken, not his laugh exactly but something even harder to mend. John usually tried to avoid startling moments of self-revelation while he was mid-flight, so he drew in on himself. It felt as if the light had drained right out of him, and he said quietly.

“We’ll be there in ten minutes, Dr McKay.”

Then the most amazing thing happened.

McKay was quiet.

He didn’t say a word for the rest of the journey, just sat there looking out at the vast empty white with a soft kind of sad look on his face. As if he understood only too well how easy it was for someone’s laugh to get broken.

When they landed McKay oversaw the unloading of the boxes, but he did it with slightly less viciousness than usual and when he was done he leaned into the cockpit and asked, “What time’s your last flight back here today?”

John checked his schedule.

“Martinez is flying in at seventeen thirty and then I‘m doing the nineteen hundred flight.”

“Is that the last one today?”

“No, Martinez is flying back at twenty one hundred.”

McKay looked thoughtful then nodded.

“Okay, seven o’clock should be fine. We don’t have a tournament or any kind of rankings play tonight, just pick up games for anyone who wants to turn up.”

McKay leaned in further, his eyes intent and alive with curiosity as he asked, “Do you play?”

“Play?”

He was suddenly aware of how tight McKay’s jacket was pulled across his arms, and how his biceps were bunched up as he supported his weight. John’s mouth was inexplicably dry, and he licked his lips to ease it.

“Chess. Do you play… Chess?”

John was a little mesmerized by how blue and searching McKay’s eyes were and it took a moment to make the connection. It was Tuesday. It was the Chess Club. The Tuesday night Chess Club Ferretti had told him about. McKay was asking him if he played Chess. Or maybe he was asking something else entirely. John found himself answering before he had a chance to think about it.  
“Try me.”

McKay nodded and then headed towards the entrance, and John found himself riveted as he watched the guy walk away. The feeling, that tense curious feeling low in his belly filled him up until it caught in his throat. John had been watching people since he arrived at McMurdo, wondering what was going on under those layers of fleece and padding. One of the other pilots had pointed McKay out to him some time ago, saying you had to watch out for him because he was a menace. So McKay had been one of the people John watched.

After a while he had come to appreciate that McKay had very broad shoulders, and that he had a surprisingly narrow waist when viewed from the rear. And while scientists weren’t usually the kind of guys you looked at and admired, in an abstract kind of way, like you’d notice the guys that really went for it in the gym, McKay was. John just hadn’t realized how much he had been noticing the way McKay looked, or appreciating the way he was put together, and admiring the truly spectacular way his ass filled out his pants, even allowing for the loose fit and unflattering cut. John had been watching McKay, but until that moment he hadn’t allowed himself to understand why.

John was less focused than he should have been as he flew back to McMurdo. He didn’t have any passengers, just six large sealed drums of waste, so he cut himself some slack if his mind was less than half on the job of flying.

He was hot and distracted by the time he landed and headed directly to his quarters. All the while turning over the idea in his head that he liked McKay, that he more than liked him. That he had a thing for him. John had a thing for the Jack-ass, the guy every pilot bitched and moaned about. But that was the weird thing about McKay, he was noticeable. Everywhere he went people noticed him, not always in a good way, okay mostly not in a good way but he drew attention, and that drew John.

Back before he’d made up his mind to change his ways and be a good soldier for however much longer they’d keep him, back in the days when he had still been a player, the number one reason that John was attracted to any particular woman was that she’d be someone who got noticed.

Didn’t have to be because she was amazing to look at, or that she was the girl everyone was fantasizing over, or the one that put out for anyone who asked, although those had all been reasons why he’d chased more than a few women over the years. But he was just as interested in the ones the soldiers bitched about; the ball-breakers, the women who were too high maintenance to be worth the trouble, the ones that were said to be a cock-tease.

But in all that time John had never felt that kind of interest in another guy.

Of course he’d done it with other guys. But in his mind it wasn’t even really sex. It was mostly just another bodily function. Sometimes it was stress relief. Or the natural reaction to having lived through something dangerous, having survived. It was pretty awesome for short term pain relief. Getting semi-hard was often the inevitable consequence of a fight, and getting off was always an antidote to the habitual boredom that was part of being a soldier.

So John had lent a buddy a hand, had done more than his fair share of fast and dirty blow-jobs and had received the same in return more times than he could remember. But he had never seriously considered the possibility of actually pursuing a guy for sex. Of being pursued by a guy for sex. Of getting into bed with another guy, of having a relationship with another guy.

By the time he was back in his room John was so worked up his hands were trembling and he had trouble turning the lock on his door. Fear and excitement, horror and fascination were churning in his guts all at once. It was the perfect storm of emotions to get him worked up. He was fumbling with the straps and the zipper on his flight suit, he struggled to get his wrists free so he could yank his arms out and let it slip down his body so he could get at his underwear and shove a hand inside.

John was so hard he was half afraid he would come in his pants, but he managed to get his hand on is dick and set up a furious rhythm. He was sweating and he had to squeeze his eyes shut to stop it stinging. He licked the salty taste off his lips and took a breath; the rough feel of his hand was nearly painful. There was one brief moment when he remembered that intense blue- eyed gaze fixed on him and then pleasure boiled out of him so suddenly it was shocking. He made a harsh sound as he came and felt his legs go to jelly so he had to lean heavily against the door to hold himself up.

Once he had himself a little more under control John stripped off the rest of his clothes and used some Kleenex to clean up. He took a shaky breath and sat on his bed. His first thought was that this was just the kind of thing he had promised himself he’d given up. And wanting a man instead of a woman, that really made it a hundred times worse. If he got caught it would give them the perfect reason to throw him out. And if he had been looking for a better way to sabotage what was left of his military career he couldn’t think what it could possibly be.

But John knew he should to be honest, with himself at least. Once he’d admitted it anyway. Once denial no longer worked.

He’d never looked for a relationship with a woman. Not since Nancy and the whole fiasco of his short-lived marriage. He’d had some fun times since then, and he had enjoyed them. And a reputation of being the guy on base was always good to have. But he’d know since the marriage ended that he really wasn’t looking for another woman to marry. He had just never considered the idea that might be because what he really wanted was another man. Until now.

John laid back and shut his eyes. All he could think about was McKay looking at him with that smug irritating smirk. He sighed when he realized that it made him wonder how much better McKay’s arrogant mouth would look with John’s cock shoved in it. Apparently he had it bad.

John had slept a little and he felt quite calm as he showered and put on fresh clothes. He decided not to think about the fact he’d shaved or that he’d put on his tightest t-shirt and the black briefs that had always made the girls grab his ass whenever he‘d worn them on a date. He slid back into his flight suit and headed off for his last flight of the shift.

By the time he was back out at the research station waiting for whoever wanted to take that flight back John was feeling pretty cool about everything. He was even beginning to allow the possibility that he had imagined the significance of the whole thing with McKay.

But five minutes later McKay was hurrying across to John’s helicopter and as he opened the door and climbed in the look he gave John scorched through his defenses.

“So are you going to play hard tonight, Major Sheppard?”

John didn’t answer, he was busy with his final checks and he realized that several other scientists were climbing into the rear seats. But he felt a little heat rise in his cheeks and he glanced across at McKay and met his direct gaze with a little smirk of his own.

“You have chess tonight, yes?” One of the other scientists asked McKay

“Yes Radek, I finally managed to tempt Major Sheppard to play.” McKay answered the wiry guy with the crazy hair who had sat behind him, but his eyes were fixed on John.

“Is good. Maybe entire lab will have peace if you get l…”

“Yes! Thank you, Zelenka. I’m sure we’ll have a great game. I‘ll win of course, in the end, but I‘m hoping the Major has some clever moves he can try on me.”

John shifted and tried to ignore how it made him feel, that McKay had obviously said something about him. It made him a little nervous, because the tables had been turned on him and he was being pursued. But it was exciting too, that feeling, and John wasn’t sure he‘d ever been aware in such an obvious way before that someone liked him.

Women generally let him do all the running. He’d never really thought about it, but maybe it was a military thing, a macho thing, and they assumed he’d want it that way. Maybe they had been able to tell he wasn’t a long haul kind of guy, so it was better not to be too emotionally invested. Or maybe they just liked the warm secret feeling of knowing someone was interested, that someone had noticed you, that they had plans for how to make you notice them.

John was ready for take off. He glanced across at McKay again and met a look of intense heated interest. He had to swallow hard to make his voice work as he called in to control to report he was leaving on schedule, because suddenly his throat was really dry.

McKay didn‘t say much of anything on the way back, but every time John looked across he caught those blue blue eyes watching. It made John wonder what McKay did at the research station; what all that genius and intensity was like when it was unleashed.

Thankfully the flight was soon over, and John touched McKay’s arm briefly to keep him back while the others were getting out, and he asked, “What time does it start?”

Rodney twisted round and leaned forward, and there was a startling second when John thought he might be about to kiss him. But then all he did was speak softly into John’s ear so they couldn’t be overheard.

“Did you eat yet? We could get something in the commissary first, if you like.”

John nodded, he realized he hadn’t eaten all day and he was surprisingly a little hungry.

“Yeah that works, see you there in thirty?”

Rodney smiled and squeezed John’s leg before he got out of the helicopter and headed off.

John sat there for a moment, feeling incredible heat in his face again.

Rodney had touched him and he hadn’t been prepared for how it would make him feel. Maybe he had thought Rodney was going to lean into him and kiss him earlier, just a soft brush of lips against his own. And he‘d imagined they might part with McKay patting his shoulder or giving his arm a squeeze. He had felt the warmth of Rodney‘s breath exhaled against his skin as he spoke softly into his ear. All of it subtle and unthreatening and a little sweet.

It hadn’t prepared him for the way Rodney’s hand wrapped around his thigh, fingers sliding down the inside of his leg. Or the way he had squeezed tight for a second, Rodney’s hand shocking and intimate as it held John’s inner thigh. A touch that couldn’t be confused with anything else.

John changed into the jeans he’d left in his locker earlier and he took some time trying to do something with his hair, but it was kind of pointless, it did what it did whether he fussed with it or not. By the time he realized he didn’t have any shoes with him it was too late to go back to his room and he ended up wearing the leather thong sandals he kept in his locker for emergencies.

When he got to the Commissary it was still busy and he couldn’t see Rodney so he figured he’d get in line and McKay would come over when he arrived.

John had just reached the servery when someone at a table near the entrance dropped a glass. He turned towards the noise instinctively and noticed someone standing in the door way.

He had his back to the commissary and John caught a glimpse of broad shoulders in a dusty orange t-shirt and a pair of low cut cargo pants, he had enough time to think oh yeah before the guy turned round, it was Rodney.

He caught sight of John waiting in line and headed over. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that Rodney looked good. John had noticed him after all, and he understood just how attractive someone that smart was. But tonight Rodney looked altogether different, almost like he could be another person. His hair was probably still a little damp from his shower so it seemed darker, and slicked back a little, and he hadn’t shaved.

John had been wondering exactly what McKay would look like under all his layers, but he’d never imagined he’d look like this. If John had been out in a club or a bar, if he’d seen Rodney looking this way, no matter how deep the closet he’d been living in, he would have understood. A guy who looked like that was trouble. A guy like that would be someone John could ruin his career over. He would have known right away that Rodney McKay was forbidden fruit and John would have run the other way as fast as he could.

But it was too late now. Rodney had snuck up on him, with his reputation for being a jerk, and his sarcasm that was just plain amusing, and his wide blue eyes, and his amazing brain.

“What looks good?” Rodney was beside him now, totally oblivious to the dark looks he was getting for cutting in, “I have to warn you I‘m deathly allergic to Citrus. I keep asking them not to put Lemon Chicken or Key Lime Pie on the menu, but apparently my untimely demise is an acceptable risk when measured against the discontent of a few pie lovers.”

John stared at the food on offer. To be honest he was never that interested in what he ate. Sure he enjoyed a nice turkey sandwich and he’d happily scarf a whole bag of chips or bowl of popcorn, but mostly he wasn’t that bothered. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like to have to worry all the time that your next meal might kill you. But Rodney had seemed annoyed rather than terrified so John had to wonder if he was exaggerating a little. He shrugged and said, “I think it’s meatloaf, that should be okay”

He had a serving with mashed potato green beans and gravy, then he waited patiently while Rodney quizzed the server about the exact ingredients of the meatloaf before deciding to try it.

John selected a butterscotch dessert and a chocolate brownie. He noticed Rodney took two desserts - chocolate and vanilla - and two chocolate chip cookies.

It was no surprise that Rodney applied himself to his food with a fierce concentration. John pushed his own dinner around on his plate because he wasn’t that hungry, after all. He realized after a moment that the sounds of Rodney enjoying the hell out of his meatloaf had stopped. He looked across and McKay was watching him.

“You should eat, John. You burn up more calories that you realize in this kind of cold, even with short exposures.”

John nodded and ducked his head. He forced himself to eat a few more mouthfuls but all he really wanted was for dinner to be over and for them to get to where ever it was they were going.

John started on his dessert, and actually it was pretty good, so he let his mind drift while he alternated bites of rich chewy brownie and creamy butterscotch mousse. He had one chuck of brownie left when he realized that Rodney had been watching him again.

He stuffed the last of the brownie into his mouth, looked up with a smirk and said, “Ready for me to kick your ass at chess, McKay?”

McKay smirked right back at him and said, “In you dreams, Sheppard.”

 

The Tuesday night Chess club was not what John had been imagining.

It sounded like something out of a spy novel, or a Bond movie; even Austin Powers. But it was just a bunch of tables set out in one corner of the small auditorium. Someone had set up a coffee pot and cups and plates of cookies and brownies with a pile of napkins, near the entrance and McKay paused to pour himself a coffee and grab a plate with some cookies on it before he headed towards one of the empty tables. John poured half a cup for himself and joined Rodney.

The chess set was quite an expensive looking one. John touched the black knight which was cool and looked heavy; the pieces were made out of something like onyx,

McKay said, “You can be white.”

John shook his head, “I’m always black.”

They sat down and Rodney smiled like a shark savoring the fine taste of blood in the water. He moved his pawn.

John moved his pawn too.

Rodney moved his knight, but he wasn’t really paying attention.

John moved his knight.

Rodney shoved his bishop up the board with a flourish; it was an aggressive move.

John smiled and moved a second pawn.

A frown briefly settled on McKay’s brow and he peered closely at the board then he moved a second pawn of his own.

John smirked again and took Rodney’s first pawn.

Rodney smirk was even bigger and took John’s pawn with his knight.

John employed his best poker face and took Rodney’s knight.

McKay rubbed his thumb over and over on the top of his pawn. He looked at John and the heat in his expression was enough to make John drop his eyes, he took John‘s knight with a smug grin.

John raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips a little and moved another pawn.

Rodney’s bishop moved forward another couple of squares.

John let his fingers slide along the edge of the board as if he was unsure what piece to move next, then suddenly he moved his queen across to check Rodney.

McKay glared at John then at the board; he didn’t like what he was seeing. He put his other knight into play to protect the king.

John took a long slow drink of his coffee, licked his lips savoring the dark rich taste then moved his queen back to command the centre of the board.

Rodney stared at his king, at John’s queen, at John. He bit his lip, and frowned. He fiddled with his king and with his castle, jiggling first one then the other against the board. He seemed to be realizing at last that this wasn’t going to be an easy victory. John looked down at the board, giving Rodney a little time to make his next move. Idly he ran the edge of his nail up and down the sinuous curve of the bishop piece.

With a little sigh Rodney castled.

John looked up, their eyes met and it was like a blaze of cold fire, as if Rodney saw John, really saw who he was for the first time. It was all John could do to swallow down the feelings of fear and excitement at the idea of Rodney looking at him with such knowing intent, to make his next move with calm precision. But John had always known what Rodney appeared to only just have realized, that Chess was war. It wasn’t always about elegant moves and pure forms, it was about winning at any cost, and that was what the Air Force had spent many years training John to do. He put another pawn into play.

Rodney moved his bishop back defensively, but there was a little spark of amusement in his expression.

John sat back in his seat. He crossed his legs and wriggled his toes a little as if he was allowing himself a moment of negligent relaxation; he enjoyed the feeling of Rodney’s eyes on him, of being watched. He leaned forward and moved his second knight into play.

Rodney’s second bishop moved up.

John looked at the pieces on the board he knew where he was moving next but he liked the idea of teasing Rodney a little, so he frowned and tapped a finger against his lips, like he was slightly perplexed before he curled his fingers around his bishop and moved it forward.

Rodney took a breath, took a sip of his coffee then grabbed a cookie. John knew he should be appalled at the way McKay stuffed the whole thing into his mouth in one go, accompanied by a look of such undisguised glee that it actually fit in there. But that was part of the strange attraction of Rodney McKay, at least for John; that he was so many things. He undoubtedly had some unattractive qualities and quite honestly the worst table manners that John had ever seen, outside a hyena documentary on The Discovery Channel.  
John was honest enough with himself to know that he could occasionally be a little prissy when it came to table manners. It wasn’t a trait he was especially proud of because he knew it came straight from his father, and the Patrick Sheppard Book of Things we don’t do at the Dinner Table.

But when he had watched Rodney eating his meal like maybe it was the last food left on the planet and if he didn’t clear his plate in five seconds flat it would be snatched away by hungry hordes, he hadn’t heard his father‘s voice in his head saying “Don’t gobble your food like a savage, boy. We don’t do that at this dinner table. “ Instead he had wondered if Rodney was that greedy with everything that went into his mouth, and it had made him break out into a light sweat.

And now, instead of thinking, Uuugh… crumbs… wait until you swallow before talking! he was wondering just how much Rodney could fit in his mouth, and whether he had a gag reflex and how it would be pretty awesome if he didn‘t.

Rodney moved another pawn, and sat back, he began fiddling with the neck of his t-shirt and John caught a glimpse of chest hair. Then Rodney ran a hand up and down his arm like he was cold, and John noticed the hair there was golden and very fine, not like the darker looking curls that he seemed to have on his chest. He wondered how Rodney felt about body hair. John was sometimes a little self-conscious of how hairy he was, and couple of girlfriends really hadn’t liked it.

John realized he’d been rubbing his hand up and down his own arm mirroring Rodney’s actions. He made his next move quickly, bishop attacking. Then he reached towards the plate of cookies.

McKay made a small move, his queen forward one space, and he reached for a cookie as well. Their fingers met by the plate; just a brief brush of skin but it seemed to electrify Rodney because he snatched his hand away with a start. John left his hand where it was and used his left hand to move his bishop forward again.

Rodney shifted in his seat a little uncomfortably, then moved his bishop forward as well.

John moved his queen one square; he knew just how this would play out now. He was tempted to make an error to let the game go on longer because he was enjoying what they were doing. A slow dance, a tease, right out in the open in front of everyone. Except all they were doing was playing chess, so no one was taking any notice at all.

Rodney pulled his knight back down the board, sat back with his arms folded and raised an eyebrow.

John’s queen moved diagonally. Threatening.

Rodney jumped his knight forward again.

John did the same with his knight.

Rodney moved his castle to the left making a little space for his king, but it was futile really.

John took Rodney’s pawn.

Rodney moved his king one space left; John moved his queen down and said, “Check.” When he spoke his voice was a little rusty.

Rodney stood up in a rush. He stared down at the board for a long moment then walked round to John and said, “Let’s play a different game.”

Rodney trailed one finger up across the back of John’s shoulder as he walked by letting the slightly rough edge of his nail drag across the bare skin of his neck under the edge of John’s t-shirt. John got up silently and followed Rodney out.

 

The End


	2. Play for Keeps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then because some people asked so very nicely there was a second part that I wrote after the contest at  
> had ended
> 
>  
> 
> Forbidden Fruit Part II: Play for Keeps.
> 
>  
> 
> See part 1 for disclaimer.

 

John was following Rodney through corridors out behind the auditorium and he had no idea where they were going. He never liked to admit it to anyone, but when he wasn’t in the air or when his life didn’t depend on it, he sometimes had a little problem with directions. Or maybe it was just that every military base he had ever spent time on was exactly like every other; same drab paint, same exposed pipe-work, same endless corridors and the same unique smell, a combination of cooking and gun oil and stale locker rooms, with a disconcerting top-note of floral disinfectant.

Rodney seemed to know exactly where he was going though, and John was happy to follow him.

John had appreciated this view of Rodney a few times over the weeks, since Martinez had first pointed him out to John, as an asshole and the guy who had made a pilot cry, in front of his ground crew. The pilot had been re-deployed to a desk job State-side or a padded cell or something and John had been his replacement, at least that’s what Martinez had said. Then again every posting John had ever been deployed to there was always some apocryphal story of what had happened to the man before him, so he figured it was just the usual hazing the new guy BS.

Having spent a couple of months observing McKay from a distance, John had decided there was strong evidence the story might actually be true. But now he was hoping to get a little closer to McKay, to get a little hands-on with him, John had to admit the idea that the story might be true made him hard. Well no, beating McKay at chess had made John hard. And following McKay in those pants, the pants that had made John admit to himself for the first time in his life that he seriously wanted the guy in those pants to fuck him, had made him harder. But the idea that he was about to be fucked by a guy who could be such a vindictive vicious asshole that he had made a pilot, a fucking pilot, cry made John so hard his balls ached and the head of his dick dribbled a little bubble of pre-come inside his tight black briefs. John thought if he didn’t either get in a room with McKay right now or at the very least calm down a bit, he might actually come right there in the corridor, in his pants.

Rodney chose the exact moment that John had thought about coming in his pants to stop, then turn and look at him.

There were some things about McKay that didn’t make much sense to John, like wasn’t blue supposed to be a cold color? But Rodney was looking at him now and it was like fire. Then John got it. It was the difference between a bullet wound which was blood and fire and hurt with a dull, throbbing, sickening ache, and being stabbed, which felt icy in that first moment but after that, shock and pain blazed through your whole body, like a lighting bolt of agony so hot it made you shiver. McKay’s stare was sharp as white hot steel.

They were just standing there in a poorly lit corridor. Rodney watching John with an intense focused stillness, waiting to see what he might do, and John watching Rodney because he couldn’t do anything else.

Rodney broke the moment when he stepped forward right into John’s personal space and ran the edge of his thumb up the crease of John’s groin, careful not to touch the outline of his hard cock at all, and said, “Did I do that?”

John had shut his eyes and bitten down hard on his bottom lip to stop his body from reacting the way it wanted to, so he was a little off balance when Rodney continued the movement of his hand and slipped two fingers over the waist of John’s jeans and tugged him forward.

 

John opened his eyes again and realized that he was being pulled towards an open doorway and into a dark room. He had no idea where he was but he really didn’t care. For all he knew this could be the infamous bathroom near the small auditorium that Feretti had told him was basically cruise-central, during his first day orientation.

John felt light-headed and a little watery in his legs, like his knees might give out, but then again his dick felt so hot and heavy most of the blood in his body had probably been diverted there. He staggered a little until he felt something hard behind him, the door, maybe a wall, it didn’t matter as long as he could lean back against it to hold himself up. His eyes were getting used to the relative darkness of the room and he could see by the red glow of a digital clock and the blue standby light on a TV screen. They were in someone’s room, McKay’s room he hoped. But John didn’t have time to compare interior design choices because Rodney was suddenly there, pressed against him, hard against him and there was no mistaking how interested in John he was.

John breath caught in his throat and shut his eyes. He was more than a little off centre and he couldn’t help licking his lips. He didn’t know what to expect in this situation, didn’t know what to do because he wasn’t used to being so passive, he wasn’t used to not knowing where to put his hands, or if he was about to be kissed or something else entirely.

Rodney leaned into him a little more hands gripping John’s biceps. As his cheek slid across John’s the rasp of stubble against his own was shocking. Rodney settled against John’s neck, and John felt heat against his skin just below his ear where Rodney was nosing into his hair and panting against his skin. It was probably the single most erotic thing he had ever experienced, and John let his head fall back against the wall with a little thud. Rodney breathed out and in, out and in, like he was learning John by scent. Then, just when John didn’t think he could bear how turned on he was by the sound and feeling of Rodney’s breath against him, he felt Rodney’s hands slide across his shoulders then down his chest. He wanted to rub his nipples into the palms as they pressed against his chest but they continued down and Rodney’s body slid down and down until he was kneeling at John’s feet.

Clever fingers were opening the button and zipper on his fly and pulling John’s jeans down with a sharp tug. He wanted to say no or yeah or even please but the only sound that came out of his mouth was,”Oh.”

Then Rodney was breathing hard, mouth right against the head of John’s dick, where his briefs were damp already from pre-come, and it felt hot and wet and like the best sex he’d ever had even through the material of his underwear.

Rodney’s hands slid around behind him, and his fingers pushed up inside the legs of his briefs. There wasn’t really enough room inside for Rodney’s hands as well, and it made them go unbearably tight across the front, squeezing John’s dick and his balls, and making him want to squirm and shout, but the only sound he seemed able to make was high little gasps. Rodney wasn’t careful when he yanked the briefs down and they caught on the head of John’s dick pulling it a little and making him moan, until Rodney tugged them down further John felt his dick slap back up against his belly and the elastic snap back against the top of his thighs leaving his balls exposed, pushed up against the base of his dick. John had maybe a second to think that he probably looked really stupid like that and then he didn’t care anymore because Rodney slid his lips over the head of his dick and simply kept going until he had swallowed John whole.

John had never had a blow job like it. No gag reflex. And the voracious way Rodney was sucking and swallowing around the head of his dick, and making greedy sounds that John could feel all the way down in his balls. And Rodney not caring that it was wet and a little sloppy. And the way he was grabbing John’s ass, pulling him even deeper into his mouth and just holding him there for endless moments until he had to pull off a little to take a breath and then swallow him back in again.

John never wanted it to end, and it was so unbearably good he didn’t think he could stand another second. And when he finally came it was endless and unendurable and it drew his mind out and out like a flawless filament of light until he felt his whole body stretched tight and thin, so thin it ached, so thin and so fine it shattered.

He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so easy and warm in his own skin. Soft and stretched out on the bed, his bones felt like they were made of taffy and the pleasure had left him with a glow in way down in his belly like sunshine, and it went on and on, he was full of heat and sun and it felt so good.

He wanted to arch his back against the scratchy blanket he was laid out on just because it felt so good. He didn’t remember getting on the bed, he didn’t remember getting naked either, but he didn’t care. When he opened his eyes the room was lit by a single lamp and he looked down and Rodney was there, between his legs using something hard and pulsing in his asshole to open him up. Pushing it in and out slowly while he held John’s balls in his other hand, just held them, like the were something precious asleep in his palm, and Rodney’s face was soft and focused and open in a way John had never imagined it could be,

When he looked up and met John’s eyes Rodney stilled his hands and said,” I knew you’d be like this. ”

John just nodded; he didn’t think he had any voice left.

Then Rodney said, “Are you ready?” And John smiled and spread his legs a little wider and Rodney pulled the vibrator out then used his broad shoulders to push up and spread John even wider pushing his legs back until he was nearly folded in two and Rodney’s cock was right there and then it was pushing inside him.

John had never been fucked before. He’d had a couple of girlfriends who liked to peg him while they blew him and he certainly hadn’t minded that one bit. But he’d never felt this. And it might even have been a little painful, Rodney had been through but maybe John hadn’t been as ready as he thought he was, but he didn’t care, didn’t really feel any pain just tight pressure that seemed like it was going to split him open. Then his body relaxed a little more and Rodney slid all the way inside and John felt it right down to his toes. There was a second when John thought he wanted to struggle, to fight him off, to get him out. But Rodney was holding him there. Holding him open, holding him down. Rodney was just holding him, and when John really felt it, being held like that, all the pressure inside him went away and it seemed like Rodney settled even deeper into him. Then John found his voice again and said,” Yes…“and, “Oh God…” and “I can’t…” and, “Oh harder…” and “There there there… Mmmmhhh”

Rodney might not have been a guy who turned heads, except he kind of was. He might not have been classically perfect, but he was handsome and he was something else, something John didn’t really have a name for, but he knew it was the thing that had drawn him to Rodney and it made him feel like that there probably wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do, if Rodney asked him to.

There was one other thing that Rodney was. Unexpectedly. He was a fucking Trojan in bed. He was relentless; he just kept on and on fucking John. He was red in the face and he was sweating but his hips kept on snapping into John like it was his vocation. John had never been with someone who was so focused and precise and so strong, it was unspeakably hot.

John was shivering inside his skin and he was hard again, and that was totally unprecedented. He never managed three times in the same day. Even when he was fifteen and everything made him horny even Sister Gregory who taught catechism and had a moustache and a wart that looked like a third eye, even then he’d never managed three times in less than nine hours.

John felt his eyes roll back and he felt his hips rise up and he wanted to just stay like that forever, the feeling of being right on the edge, right there, with Rodney fucking him. But it couldn’t last and he felt the bloom of his orgasm deep inside, it whispered through his body and laid waste to his senses until all he felt was Rodney pushing and pushing and pushing then Rodney said, “John…” and everything rolled away into bliss.

It was daylight when John next opened his eyes. He was warm and he could feel arms tight around him, and someone was snoring in his ear like an asthmatic Chihuahua. John shifted around enjoying the feeling of used muscles and the aching in his ass and his balls and even his wrung out dick, which was mercifully soft and not even a little bit interested where it lay against his thigh.

John managed to turn round in the bed and then he was looking at Rodney; Rodney, who was asleep and drooling a little down the side of his mouth, Rodney, who had fucked him into oblivion and beyond last night.

John didn’t know what to do because it was the morning after and often this was when the person he’d spent the night with realized the guy in their bed wasn’t any kind of a keeper. But he had hope this time might be different.

John watched Rodney’s face, wanted to see the moment he came awake, hoping it might reveal something good. Rodney was licking his lips and twitching; either he was about to wake up or he was chasing bunnies in his sleep. And John was suddenly mesmerized by Rodney’s mouth, and by the realization that they hadn’t kissed.

John was unbearably turned on by the idea that Rodney’s mouth had been all over his dick but had never touched his lips. John’s dick twitched against his leg at the memory and he groaned because it hurt to even think about being hard but the memory was so good. He leaned closer, and watched Rodney’s face for a sign he was awake, but he was drawn to the way Rodney’s mouth seemed to be waiting for a kiss. His lips parted, pushed forward a little so that his upper lip didn’t look like a slash and his bottom lip looked like it was waiting for someone to bite it. John took a breath and leaned closer… Closer… Closer. He fit his lips against Rodney’s just a soft slide of flesh against flesh and a little puff of air he couldn’t help sighing because kissing Rodney was sweeter than he could have imagined.

The moment when Rodney came awake, when his lips went from soft and yielding to hard and closed was intense and John held his breath, waiting to see what he would do. The moment when Rodney relaxed and opened his mouth to kiss John back was better than anything.

They stayed in the bed just kissing, first hungrily and then slower and lazier until Rodney pushed John off saying, “We have work today you know!”

John groaned and tried to pull Rodney back, but Rodney rolled away and up, he sat on the edge of the mattress and said, “It’s an important day for us. O’Neill is coming in to look at Daniel’s latest research.”

John just lay there, he could still feel Rodney all over his body, and he didn’t want that feeling to go away. He didn’t even know who Daniel or O’Neill were.

”John!” Rodney poked him in the ribs, specifically his bottom rib, and the one that was really sensitive. John hunched over and snarled a little, he hated Rodney had figured that out so fast.

Rodney said, “Come on, you have to get up.” Pulling at John to get him moving, “You are scheduled to fly the General in at eleven, and I have to be at the research station at least two hours before he arrives.”

John scrubbed his hands through his hair and rubbed his eyes; he dimly recalled there had been a bit of a rumpus over the scheduling for the day and that he’d drawn the short straw and had to fly the VIP out there. He rolled over and sat up as well. He hated that this was the end. That they both had work commitments there were important, or at least in his case, unavoidable. John could feel it all slipping away.

“Hey!”

John’s head dropped forward for a moment then he pushed himself up. He could see his jeans over by the door. He just needed to locate his T-shirt.

“John, Hey!” Suddenly Rodney was in his space, holding on to his shoulder, peering into his eyes. “It’s only because we’re really busy toady. If not I’d be taking you into the shower and shoving my tongue so far in your ass your toes would curl and then I’d fill you up with lube and fuck you for an hour. You’d be so hot and sweet and I would love that your ass was red and still sore from last night, and I’d make you come so hard nothing else would matter.”

John couldn’t help the flush that colored his cheek, he’d never been into sex talk that way, it had always seemed a little too contrived, but Rodney didn’t sound like he was trying to be sexy, he was just saying precisely what he wanted to do. John nodded and said, “oh yeah?”

Then Rodney blinked and something seemed to shutter behind his eyes and he said, “That is, if you want to. I mean, if you thought this was just a hook-up that would be…fine I suppose.” But the corner of Rodney’s mouth had turned down and it didn’t look as if the thought it would be fine at all.

So John said, “No I was hoping for more than one night.” And even though it felt like he was flaying himself open right there in front of Rodney he added, “I’d like it to be more than a hook-up.”

Then Rodney pulled him into a fierce hug and it didn’t feel awkward, and John knew where to put his hands and he hugged Rodney back just as hard. He felt it when Rodney breathed in and out against his neck, he figured it must be a thing he did, John hoped so because apparently it was a thing he liked.

Rodney lifted his head a little so he could speak the words right against John’s ear, he said, “I’ll see you in the mess-hall at eight tonight. And remember what I said I wanted to do to this.” And he pinched John right at the crease where his thigh met his ass cheek, then he continued, “So no distractions flying O’Neill out. I know what a menace he can be. No showing off for the General with some fancy flying maneuvers. Just keep this,” and he pinched John again for emphasis, “out of trouble.”

The End

 

And I guess we all know how well those famous last words turned out.…..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And a final note from me.  
> I know that I have read the line when Rodney says ”I knew you’d be like this” in someone else’s story in fairly identical similar situation and I can’t for the life of me think who it was. I tired to change it but it just didn’t sound right, so if someone knows what the story is, or who the author is I’d happily credit them with the inspiration, and obviously change it if that is what they want.


End file.
